


Embrasse-moi, asshole

by tiniestawoo



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Canonical Character Death, Companionable Snark, France (Country), Future Fic, Isaac speaks french, Jackson likes it, Language Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, Vacation, claws and fangs occur, flippant use of French language, mild bloodplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:20:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25226707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniestawoo/pseuds/tiniestawoo
Summary: “You can stop staring any time now,” Isaac said, crossing his arms over his chest.“What are you doing here?” Jackson repeated.“I already told you I work here, I know you took some hits to the head, but you were never that–”“In France, dumbass,” Jackson scoffed, “Why are you in France?”Isaac bit the inside of his cheek to stem the rising swell of emotion but from the look on Jackson’s face he failed. “I didn’t have anywhere else to be?”--Or the one where Jackson goes to France with friends, runs into a ghost from the past and realizes that maybe there's more to life than just surviving.
Relationships: Isaac Lahey/Jackson Whittemore
Comments: 8
Kudos: 58





	Embrasse-moi, asshole

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Jackson Rarepair Week!!
> 
> There is...gratuitous use of the French language in this fic, which I do not speak but was checked by people who do!
> 
> if you also do not speak French, I'd suggest reading this on desktop, where hovering over the "linked" text should give you a little pop up box with the translation!! 
> 
> Big shout out to [Joohlia](https://luulapants.tumblr.com) for the cheerleading and French help!

Isaac knew that the way the hair raised on the back of his neck could mean only one thing. He rolled his eyes to himself and sighed, taking a long drag from his glass of water, grabbing the last gougère from the basket and popping it into his mouth. He chewed it deliberately slowly, hoping that Beau or Claire would decide to take whatever party had just come in.

Because the party contained at least one werewolf and Isaac was not in the mood for territory bullshit. He frankly didn’t care about territory lines or who belonged where or who had permission from whom to be where. He just lived here.

When his sensitive ears told him neither of the other servers had taken the bait, Isaac finished his water, wiped his hands on the apron and stepped out of the back to greet the newest batch of guests.

It was clear from the fact that they were joking in English that addressing them in French wasn’t necessary. But, Isaac had picked up the language, and it helped keep him from seeming immediately out of place. "Salut! Comment allez-vous ce soir?" 

After a moment of blank looks, one of the young men scoffed at his friends and pushed his way to the front. “Bonjour, une table pour six personnes, s'il vous….” He trailed off half way through the accented but comfortable pleasantry, narrowing his eyes. 

Isaac was surprised that the expression that came to his face was a smile, but sure enough the sight of, of all people, _Jackson Whittemore_ dragged the first real smile onto his face in ages. 

“Jackson?”

“Isaac?” Jackson responded, eyebrows drawn together, lips slightly parted. “What are you doing here?” 

Isaac laughed, “I work here.” He turned to the group Jackson had come with and waved them into the cafe, settling them into a booth in the corner.

Jackson hovered on the edge, not facing the table. Isaac could feel the weight of his gaze as he dutifully filled waters and carried over a tray of them along with some menus. With the cat out of the bag he said, “I’ll be back to take your order in a few minutes,” in English before flicking his eyes to meet Jackson’s. He motioned for the other ‘wolf to follow him with a toss of his head.

Isaac ignored the burning gazes of one of the cooks and the other two servers as he led Jackson through the back of the restaurant to the rear door. He propped it open with a milk crate after letting Jackson through.

“You can stop staring any time now,” Isaac said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you doing here?” Jackson repeated.

“I already told you I work here, I know you took some hits to the head, but you were never that–”

“In France, dumbass,” Jackson scoffed, “Why are you in France?” 

Isaac bit the inside of his cheek to stem the rising swell of emotion but from the look on Jackson’s face he failed. “I didn’t have anywhere else to be?”

“I thought McCall was some kind of fancy True Alpha? Why aren’t you in Beacon Hills with him?” Jackson frowned, pink lips slightly parted revealing just a hint of tongue. 

“There’s nothing left for me in Beacon Hills,” Isaac answered, turning away from Jackson. “I couldn’t….after… _fuck_ ,” He reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“After Allison,” Jackson said, his voice soft but sure. Isaac saw him nod slowly out of the corner of his eye, “I should go back in before my friends get annoyed.”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, his tone flat. “I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jackson disappeared back into the restaurant, leaving Isaac standing out back, sucking in deep breaths of air as old grief sprung anew. Allison wasn’t his only ghost, she was just his newest. There was the ghost of his mother, his father, Camden, Erica, Boyd, Allison. There was the pain of Derek’s rejection –for his protection or not – it was still painful and fresh in his mind. There was _nothing_ worth going back for in Beacon Hills, and he hated Jackson for dragging those memories to the fore. 

“You look like shit,” One of his coworkers, Beau, said in accented English as he poked his head out the back door.

Isaac hurried to wipe the stray tears from the back of his hand. “I used to know that guy,” He answered quickly, “It’s fine, I can go take their orders.”

“Go home, Isaac,” Beau said. “Claire is taking care of your table. You never take sick days.” Beau tapped his lips a few times. “Pour un fois, tu sembles affligé” 

Isaac wasn’t really sure that being at home, alone, was going to be any better. Fighting with Beau and Claire wasn’t usually worth his time though, so he shrugged and nodded, “D'accord, je vais chercher mes affaires.” 

\--

The apartment that Chris had given Isaac the keys to was nicer than any other place he’d ever lived. It had granite countertops and dark wooden cabinets and a _stainless steel_ refrigerator. The furniture was sturdy wood and real, well-worn leather. Chris had bought Isaac a new mattress and sheet set for the bedroom, but largely, the scent of Argents - Chris and Allison most potently, was still everywhere in the apartment. 

Sometimes, it was a comfort. Sometimes, it felt like the ghosts of his past were laughing at him.

The TV was on in the background as Isaac flicked idly through facebook. Updates from Beacon Hills had been few and far between lately. The last thing Isaac had heard, Chris had been debating bringing Gerard back to help with something called La Bête. Chris had called Isaac of all people for advice. It had been a twilight zone moment. Isaac had never been asked for advice by anyone in his entire life, but Allison, she would have done whatever it took to make sure that people were safe. 

So, the advice he’d given Chris had been a ‘what would Allison do?’ moment. 

Having refreshed facebook and instagram as many times as one could with as many idle hours as he’d had, Isaac locked his phone and sat forward to set it on the table. As he did, there was a knock on the front door of the apartment. He frowned. In over a year of living here, he’d only ever had one guest pop in unannounced, and Chris didn’t need to knock, he had his own set of keys.

Closing his eyes, Isaac listened closely to whomever was at the door. He studied the heartbeat, tried to get as much of a scent as he could through a reinforced door. At a second, more insistent knock, he stood and walked to the door, frowning as he glanced through the peephole.

He opened the door, “How the hell did even find me?” 

“I called Derek, who’s in South America, by the way. He called and asked Argent.” Jackson didn’t bother to wait for an invitation, just pushed his way into the apartment, stopping just inside the door with wide eyes and flaring nostrils. “You can….”

“Yeah,” Isaac said, closing the door. “I don’t open the windows. I….can’t. I’m afraid to air it out, afraid that...it’ll mean she’s really gone.” 

Jackson turned slowly in a circle, letting out a low whistle. “Argent at least has taste.”

Isaac gave a brief hum of amusement, “Yeah, a far cry from the dump I grew up in.” 

Isaac wasn’t sure if Jackson was nodding in response to that, or just nodding, but the werewolf couldn’t seem to pick a spot to stare. When he’d taken in as much of the apartment as he could from the entryway, he headed further in, kicking his shoes off near the door and following what was probably a scent trail to the living room. “How long have you been in France?”

“Since the last New Year. How’s London?”

Jackson rolled his eyes, “London is....a new adventure every week.” Isaac could tell that the smile Jackson plastered on as he dropped onto the couch was fake. “It’s a dream come true.”

“Liar,” Isaac said, dropping onto the opposite corner.

Jackson shrugged one shoulder, looking towards the quietly playing TV. “It’s boring. The pack I’ve aligned with is boring, the people I’m around are boring. The accent gets old.” Grey-blue eyes flicked to meet his own. “But, at least I haven't died there.”

Isaac casually pointed a finger at Jackson as he let out a huff of laughter through his nose. “Are you going to go back to the states? One more year, right?”

“I’m thinking about going back for college, yeah.” Jackson frowned, “Are you even in school?”

Isaac licked his lips and studied Jackson, head cocked to the side, “You can stop pretending like we’re friends. You’re not here to talk about school. You’re not here to talk about being bored in London. You’re not here to reminisce about Beacon Fucking Hills. All you’ve done since I saw you this morning is dredge up old memories so, tell me, Jackson, why the fuck are you here.”

Isaac saw a tic of frustration in the corner of Jackson’s jaw as he raised both of his eyebrows. “Someone’s grown a backbone.”

It was Isaac’s turn to roll his eyes. “Are you going to answer me or not?”

Jackson pressed his lips together in a thin line, his hands clasped together tightly in his lap, “I’m here to apologize for killing your Dad, okay?”

Isaac sat back hard against the corner of the couch. Of all the possible things Jackson _could_ have wanted, that one hadn’t even occurred to him. He could have been there to interrogate Isaac about Beacon HIlls, to talk about Allison’s death, hear more about Scott, or Lydia, or Stiles – who, like Jackson, had briefly become a monster. “I can’t absolve you of all your guilt.” Isaac finally said, “But you can let that one go. It doesn’t take a monster to do monstrous things.” 

Jackson let out a breath Isaac hadn’t realized he was holding. “Okay,” He said, wiping his palms against the knees of the designer jeans he wore. His tongue darted out, barely discernible from the rose pink of his lips. Jesus christ had Isaac been alone so long that he’d started to notice things like the fucking color of Jacksons lips?

“So that’s it?” Isaac asked, blinking a few times, “You find me in a little seaside town in No Where, France, apologize for killing my Dad, enjoy the eau de Allison for a few minutes and then you’re just going to leave? Go back to London? Pretend like you’re not bored out of your skull?” He sat forward on the couch, “The Jackson Whittemore I grew up with would never have stopped complaining about it. He’d have never let himself get _bored_. You said I grew a backbone, it sounds to me like you’ve lost yours.”

A slow smirk spread across Isaac’s face in response to the return of the frustrated tic in Jackson’s jaw, “What do _you_ think I should do, exactly?” Jackson asked, leaning forward himself. “Stay here? Ditch school? Work in a restaurant for the rest of my life?”

“It’s working for me.” 

“Pfft. You’re lonely. The apartment only smells like you. You and _eau de Allison._ ”

“La vie a ses mauvais moments, il faut faire avec.” Isaac grinned as the scent of Jackson’s arousal suddenly spiked. He smirked, “Ça t'a plu? Is that _really_ a thing for you?” 

“I only got like half of that,” Jackson smirked back, a challenge in his eyes, running his tongue along his lower lip. “And so what if it is? You gonna do something about it?”

Isaac brought his face even closer to Jackson’s, whispering, “Embrasse-moi, asshole.” 

\--

Considering the fact that at the tender age of 16 he’d been turned into a werewolf, Isaac had a healthy imagination for the potential variability of his life. None of his possible futures, though, included kissing Jackson Whittemore.

They also had not included scooping the smaller wolf up off the couch, wrapping Jackson’s legs around his hips and carrying him back towards his bedroom. 

Isaac dropped Jackson none-too-gently onto the bed, staring down at him. “Je veux te baiser.” 

Jackson chuckled, resting back against the bed, “You wanna try that one again?” 

“Are you gonna let me fuck you?” Isaac asked, leaning down to bracket Jackson with his arms on either side of his head, one leg slipping between Jackson’s spread ones. “Is that why you came here? When’s the last time you let your wolf out?” He flashed gold eyes, Jackson’s icy blue flaring in response.

“Y’know it wasn’t on the list, but I’m not opposed to it.” Jackson reached up, running a hand into Isaac’s hair and gripping tightly, tugging him down into a bruising kiss. In retaliation, Isaac rocked his thigh against Jackson’s erection, capturing the moan that Jackson released with his own mouth. 

Isaac reached for the button on Jackson’s jeans just as Jackson sank his fangs into Isaac’s bottom lip, drawing a groan of his own as pain-pleasure seared through him. His fingers, previously innocuous human digits, were suddenly razor sharp claws that sliced through the material of Jackson’s jeans. 

“Oops.” Isaac said, running his tongue along the healing wounds of his lip. “Guess maybe you should watch where my hands are before you start _biting me_.” 

Jackson chuckled, flicked two of his own claws out and slid them down Isaac’s T-shirt, splitting it from collar to hem. Isaac gaped for a moment before dropping back down to recapture Jackson’s fucking perfect pink lips. 

Undressing became a game that ended in both of their clothes mostly shredded on the floor, and Isaac on his back with Jackson on his knees between his legs. One of Jackson’ s hands was resting tauntingly next to Isaac’s erection as the other stroked at his own in careful, practiced strokes. 

“Y’know, the French aren’t big on oral.” Isaac said, tucking his hands behind his head.

“What are you implying?” Jackson asked, his expression dark and wanting as he stared down at Isaac.

“I’m implying that I want to know if your mouth is good for anything other than talking.” Isaac smirked as Jackson looked faux-offended. 

He got the damn blowjob out of it, though. Jackson’s lips; full, pink and moistened looked absolutely obscene stretched around Isaac’s cock, one hand at the base and the other running a claw against the sensitive place on his hip. It hadn’t been that long since Isaac has gotten laid, but he was a teenage fucking werewolf, and Jackson was hotter than he had any right to be. It only took a few minutes under Jackson’s sinful tongue for Isaac to throw his head back against the pillow and cry, “Je jouis!”

Jackson apparently figured out what he meant because he popped off of Isaac’s dick and proceeded to continue the pace with his hand, Isaac coming hard seconds later, mostly into Jackosn’s hand. The blue-eyed wolf stroked him through the orgasm and then pulled his hand away, licking tentatively at his hand, eyes locked on Isaac’s.

“I didn’t even know you were gay.” Isaac said, chest still heaving, “Let alone that you could give head like that.”

“I’m not gay, jackass.” Jackson shrugged, “Bi, or whatever. What did you think Lydia and I did while we watched the Notebook? Cuddled?”

Isaac shrugged, “Honestly, I’ve literally never cared.” It was a lie, and he was sure his heartbeat gave him away, but Jackson didn’t push the issue. He sat up, motioning to Jackson’s angry erection, “You want me to reciprocate?” 

“No, I want you to fuck me.” Jackson smiled, tugging Isaac in for another kiss. Isaac could taste himself in Jackson’s mouth. “That’s what you said you wanted to do, wasn’t it?”

Isaac went for nonchalance, “I didn’t actually expect that you’d let me.” 

“What can I say?” Jackson ran his come covered hand deviously into Isaac’s hair, “We’re all full of surprises today.”

Isaac rolled his eyes, “You’re such a jackass.” 

\--

Jackass or not, Jackson went from cocky bastard to _puddle of werewolf goo_ the moment Isaac had him on his back, one lubed fingers slipping inside of him while his other hand gave slow, teasing strokes to his cock. With Isaac over him, and one of Jackson’s legs tossed over Isaac’s shoulder to give him access, Jackson went boneless, eyes fluttering closed as Isaac worked up from one finger to two, and then three. 

“Êtes-vous prêts?” Isaac asked, pressing a kiss to the inside of Jackson’s knee, “Je peux le mettre en toi?” He enjoyed the little jump Jackson’s dick gave every time he spoke in French. “Are you ready, Jackson?” 

_“Please.”_

Isaac nearly forgot what he was doing entirely because never in his life did he imagine that he’d hear Jackson Whittemore beg.

With an incredulous chuckle, Isaac slicked his cock and then pressed into Jackson’s hole. Jackson’s teeth caught his bottom lip as he pressed his shoulders back into the bed. Isaac kept one hand on Jackson’s shin, the other still wrapped around his dick. He wasted no time once he was in, sliding out and thrusting back in. “ _Fuck._ ” 

Jackson’s eyes, hazy and unfocused, snapped to attention at that, finding Isaac’s, “No more French?”

“I’m so – _Jesus you’re tight_ – sorry that I can’t speak in a second language while my dick is in your ass.” 

“You managed while it was –” Jackson’s words faded into a breathy whine as Isaac shifted him so his thrusts struck his prostate. “ _Fuck_.” 

Despite having come earlier, Isaac was already on edge, and Jackson hadn’t come yet, so he stroked diligently at the beta’s cock as he fucked into Jackson, using his leverage on the beta’s leg to shift positions. 

Jackson came with a high pitched whine, eyes flaring blue and clawed hands slicing through the bedsheets. Isaac followed him not long after, burying himself into his ass and gripping bruisingly against the skin of Jackson’s leg and hip. He wavered slightly, catching his breath while still pressed tightly inside of Jackson. “Wow.” 

"How the fuck are you _good_ so at this?” Jackson groaned, one arm slung over his eyes, slurring around his fangs, his other hand clenched at the bedcovers. “You. Fucking Isaac Lahey.”

“What do you think Allison and I were doing all those nights I spent at the Argent’s apartment?” Isaac quipped, and then he immediately regretted it. He shoved Jackson’s leg off his shoulder and pulled out, curling his legs into his chest and staring at Jackson.

“Well you got sad,” Jackson mused, moving his arm to pin Isaac with a glance. “You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” Isaac answered.

Jackson nodded slowly, “Okay… I’ll just uh…” He stared at his clothes on the floor. “You have something I can wear out of here? Walk of shame is one thing, naked walk of shame is a whole ‘nother ball park.” 

Isaac’s heart thudded at the idea of Jackson leaving, of suddenly being alone again, in a strange place with people who knew only a facade of the person he was. “I…” He hated this, hated that he was this emotional. It was just a fuck. Nothing more. “Yeah.” He rolled off the bed to head towards the dresser. 

“Or I could stay.” Jackson offered, sitting up. “I told my friends not to expect me.”

Isaac glanced over his shoulder, “Were you planning to fuck me the whole time?” 

Jackson smirked, “Not necessarily _you_ , just...someone.” 

So, that’s what Isaac was to Jackson. Just someone. “Why do you want to stay?” 

“You seem like you could use a friend.” 

“Do you know how to be a friend?” Isaac chuckled, throwing a T-shirt and a pair of shorts at Jackson. 

“Fuck you.” 

“I’ll pass. Do you wanna shower?” Isaac grimaced as he ran a hand through his come-sticky hair.

Jackson nodded vigorously, “Yes. Yes I do.”

\--

The next morning, Isaac woke up surprised to find Jackson asleep against his chest. He couldn’t help but look down at the other wolf and feel more settled, more comfortable, more at home than he had in a year.

It made his decision a lot clearer.

“It’s too early for your heart to be beating so fast.” Jackson grumbled.

“Do you remember last night, when you asked me what I thought you should do?” Isaac asked, running a hand up and down the length of Jackson’s back. Jackson grunted something affirmative into Isaac’s skin. “We should go back.” 

Jackson pressed up to a seat, Isaac grunting at the sudden pressure on his chest. “Go back where?”

“To Beacon Hills.” 

“Why the fuck would we do that? Also why _we_?”

“Beacon Hills isn’t boring.” Isaac offered. “And it’s not lonely.” He sighed, staring up at Jackson. “Also I guess I want to go where you are because I don’t know if I can ever fuck another human again.” He winked.

Jackson rolled his eyes, but his grin was fonder than it was annoyed. He leaned down to press a soft, closed-mouthed kiss to Isaac’s lips. “What if they don’t want us back?”

“It’s Scott.” Isaac replied, “And Lydia. And Stiles. It’s our pack and our home. We have every right to be there.”

“You really want to go back?” Jackson asked, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah...I really do.”

**Author's Note:**

> translations:
> 
> Salut! Comment allez-vous ce soir? - Welcome, how can I help you?  
> Bonjour, une table pour six personnes, s'il vous… - Hello, a table for 6 please(cut off)  
> Pour un fois, tu sembles affligé - For once, you seem afflicted.  
> D'accord, je vais chercher mes affaires - Sure, let me grab my things.  
> La vie a ses mauvais moments, il faut faire avec - Life has its low points, we have to deal with it.  
> Ça t'a plu? - You liked that?  
> Embrasse-moi - Kiss me.
> 
> [dirty from here down haha]
> 
> Je veux te baiser. - I want to fuck you  
> Je jouis! - I'm coming  
> Êtes-vous prêts - Are you ready?  
> Je peux le mettre en toi? - can I put it in you?


End file.
